Fire in His Blood

I keep speaking in low, soothing tones, making sure to repeat our names to try and anchor him. I have no idea if it’ll work, but his eyes are slowly going completely gold, and this time, when he pushes his snout against my hand, seeking my touch, his movements are calm.

The awful tension inside me relaxes. I stroke my hand over his scaly nose, continuing to murmur soft words of comfort. He doesn’t reach out to grab me with his claws again. That’s good. That’s progress. His tail has slowed its lashing, and when he leans in and nuzzles at my neck, I know he’s back to himself.

“There we go,” I tell him, pleased at both his response and the fact that I was able to help. I feel like I’m in control of the situation for a change, and it’s not the worst feeling in the world.

The dragon’s giant head noses me again, and then he sniffs deep. His enormous, serpentine tongue snakes out and licks my arm, and it hurts like the dickens. Right. I’ve been shot. Wincing, I pull away and study the wound. Just a graze, but it needs to be cleaned. And, you know, not licked by a dragon. No telling what that’ll do to an infection.

“We need water,” I tell him. Maybe there’s some in this building, if he’s feeling calm enough to let me explore.

He licks my arm again, this time careful to avoid my wound. I shiver at the simple affection, because I shouldn’t like it. I really shouldn’t. Then he whuffs at my hair again, and the growl in his throat turns to a low thrum. Yeah, I know where this is going. He’s going to get turned on, and then I’ll have to calm him down for entirely different reasons. I grab his nose with both hands and force him to look at me. “Can you change to human form?”

He gazes at me, eyes amber on gold, the thrumming in his throat continuing.

At least he’s happy. “I wish you spoke English,” I tell him, and then try to figure out which mimed gesture will make him realize that we need to chat. I put a hand to my mouth and gesture for talking, then make a two-legged man with my fingers and have it walk. “Two legs? Yes?”

Kael nuzzles at my hands, and the low rumbling in his throat grows more affectionate by the moment.

“Jeez. Okay, well, if you find me some water and let me get cleaned up, I swear I’ll let you kiss me as much as you want.”

He tilts his big head. Then his back arches and he flashes into human form once more. The golden-skinned man crouches on the ground and rises to his feet, all lithe movements and gorgeous body.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You sure you don’t speak English, big guy?”

His amber eyes watch me with warmth and not a little amorousness. “Clau-dah,” he murmurs in a husky voice, reaching out to touch me.

And I shiver at the promise in that.

“Water first,” I tell him. “I’ll be a lot more amenable when I’m clean.”

10

CLAUDIA

Trying to convince an overprotective dragon-man that you aren’t going to run away again is not the easiest task. Then again, nothing about communicating with Kael is easy. Every time I wander away a few feet, he hovers over me, as if he doesn’t trust me not to bolt again. I can’t blame the guy—because I did bolt—but it grows frustrating to have the big head looming over me constantly. He doesn’t understand that I’m stuck with him, like it or not.

I can’t stop thinking about the soldiers from Fort Dallas. They’d shot at me when Kael hadn’t let me go. Were they under instructions by the mayor to kill me if they couldn’t bring me back? Or were they acting on their own? I don’t know, and until I know that answer, It’s not safe for me to go home.

Right now, Kael’s the only option I’ve got, even if it means I don’t get much alone time. Or, you know, pants. I’d be happy with either.

I spend my time exploring this new building, or at least the floor we’re on. I’m pretty sure Kael won’t let me near a stairwell again. That’s all right, too. I sorta burned that privilege. This looks like an office building, and it also looks like it’s in relatively good shape, so the scavenger in me is hoping to find something useful, even if it’s not pants.

I’d really, really like to not be nude anymore. Or shoes. Shoes would be nice. I think mournfully of the long, torn dress that was left behind at the last building. It could have been a sarong. Oh well. I’ll work with what I’ve got, and right now, I’ve got a big empty building. So I pick through heaps of junk and pull open doors, looking around with interest. Kael’s not letting me go anywhere, either; every door I open, his big head is there blocking out the sunlight. It’s a little irritating, but I work with it, since he’s not leaving anytime soon.

And really, I don’t know that I want him to go anywhere anymore. If the humans have guns, I guess I’m throwing my lot in with the dragons. Or at least this dragon.

Eventually I find a bathroom. Success! It looks mostly whole—no gaps in the walls, no breaks in the floor. One of the stalls has been knocked down, and there’s a big hole in the ceiling, but that’s all right. I turn to Kael. “I need a few moments alone in here, okay?”

He noses my hair.

Yeah. Okay. We go through a series of pantomimes involving our very small vocabulary and lots of gestures. Eventually, I think he figures out that I need a few minutes to myself, and that I can’t go anywhere. When I carefully shut the bathroom door, he doesn’t bugle with anger or freak the fuck out on the other side. It’s quiet. Relieved, I check the bathroom out and take a few moments to use the facilities. Once I’m done, I head for the big mirror behind the sinks. It’s cracked and dirty, but I can still see my reflection…and I almost wish I hadn’t. Man, I look rough.

The face that stares back at me is human, but barely. I look disheveled and small, and for a moment I think I’m looking at Amy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen my reflection that I no longer recognize myself. I’m not the bright-eyed teenager I used to be. The woman that stares across from me is haunted-eyed and thin, a little scrappy, and a lot beat up.

It’s not Amy, though, and my heart hurts. My sister. I hope she’s okay.

The girl in the mirror’s eyes well up, and I swipe at my cheeks before the tears can fall. It just leaves another dirty mark on my skin. I’m covered in enormous bruises and a thin layer of dirt. I have scratches all over, too, and my hair is a tangled snarl of leaves and drywall dust. I touch one enormous scrape and wince. It’s a damn shame I don’t have water to wash with or drink. The toilets were dry, and I don’t even know that these sinks work. So much plumbing in Old Dallas has gone to crap without proper maintenance.